


Thirteenth Night

by NienteZero



Category: Twelfth Night - Shakespeare
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-31
Updated: 2013-12-31
Packaged: 2018-01-06 21:52:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1111915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NienteZero/pseuds/NienteZero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This story was written as a donor reward for Captions for Literacy, for Rachel. The prompt was "13th Night" Shakespeare's 12th Night, but far shorter: as soon as Viola realizes Olivia has fallen for her, she reveals herself. Olivia, it turns out, is not disappointed. What happens when we ditch presumptions of hetero-monogamy?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thirteenth Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rachel M](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Rachel+M).



> First five lines of dialogue courtesy of the Original Author. I am not a scholar of Elizabethan English so I proffer my profuse apologies to Master Shakespeare.

An alternative ending to Act 3, Scene 1 of Twelfth Night  
\----------------------------------------------  
OLIVIA  
Stay: I prithee, tell me what thou thinkest of me.  
VIOLA  
That you do think you are not what you are.  
OLIVIA  
If I think so, I think the same of you.  
VIOLA  
Then think you right: I am not what I am.  
OLIVIA  
I would you were as I would have you be!  
\----------------------------------------------

The wit of Lady Olivia's words, her lively charm, her command of her household of foolish men and headstrong Maria, stirred in Viola a sense that for all the charm of Count Orsino's melancholy mien, in this maid was a more fit companion for Viola's own nimble mind. 

For though Count Orsino's outward garb of grief met well with Viola's sorrow at the loss of her dear twin, yet in long years might she not seek a companion more apt to marry sorrow with strength?

And though Count Orsino bore the spear where Olivia held the distaff, yet was not Lady Olivia made of the same metal as Viola? To marry two like metals forged a greater strength than joining a hilt of steel with a sword of dull pewter.

Viola spoke then, challenging Olivia.

"Would you have me speak of love with you? Count Orsino seeks to see your countenance look fair in his direction, and yet may more gentlemen throw their honour under your foot. Will you have humble Cesario his faith to you pledge? Is that how you would have me be, Lady Olivia?"

"A sorrowful gentleman and a proud knight would have my hand, Cesario, and either would be a match the world would smile on. But this young servant, this beardless boy is the one who wakes the spirit in me to say yield, where to none before I would yield. I would have humble Cesario be my lord."

Lady Olivia stood with proud straight back as she spoke these words, revealing to Viola more of the gentlewoman's plight than she had seen at first. A noble orphan with no brother was indeed a woman to attract men who would court her not for the love of a white neck or a dark eye, nor even for a sharp wit or a bright tongue. 

It was a wise woman who stayed her suitors until she could choose one who presented a fair bargain between profit and loss. Since the Lady Olivia's loss of her brother, had she not become both Mistress and Master of her domain? It was not long that Viola had pinned her hair and put on breeches, but the liberty with which she strode the land as the mere servant of Count Orsino was greater than a noble woman who wed might find in all her life.

Lady Olivia demanded, "Will you not answer, Cesario, whether or not you'll be as it pleases me? To say that the rose that blooms in your youthful cheek now, springs from your heart at hearing your Olivia woo?"

Viola took one of Olivia's fair hands in hers.

"Cesario's heart may not be moved by gracious words. I'll not be as you please, but I may please you as I am. I am not Cesario, nor no man to master you. But yet, Olivia, you may be mistress of my heart."

"What are you if not Cesario?" Olivia said.

"What am I but Count Orsino's servant?" Viola said, her fine eyes sparkling.

"No one's master but you'd have me be your mistress?" Olivia said.

"And be your mistress too, if it please Lady Olivia. I am not Cesario, but Viola."

"And yet you have the appearance and manners of a bold youth." Olivia said.

"Nature has made my manner thus. My appearance is my cloak against the dangers of the world. I was at sea with my brother. Our ship was lost, my brother lost, and my freedom to walk a strange shore lost without the honour of his escort. I heard that Count Orsino was a man of somber countenance that might well match my own."

"But Cesar- Viola, your countenance is as merry as a maid in summer, your lips berry red, not white and sickly." Olivia protested. "You have none of the bemoaning, love-sick pallor of the Count."

"In truth, there is a shade over my sun for I loved my brother as mischief loves laughter. But in your fair company, Lady Olivia, the sun doth dapple through that cloud and set its glow on my face."

"Two sisters with brothers torn from them might know the sorrows of each other's hearts, and gentle them with care and time to drive out melancholy." Olivia said.

"Two maids who have mastered the world as boldly as men might know each other's strength. My Lady Olivia is like Damascus steel, fair to the eye with a wit as sharp to cut a man through."

"And does my wit cut a woman?"

"Your wit strikes against mine, steel on steel with parry and thrust to match. We are well matched, my Lady."

"A blade may strike a blade but rests in a scabbard."

"Two blades of wit may find two scabbards of wisdom to rest in."

"Then, Viola, let me send away my suitors, their hands empty, and we two shall live as merry Mistress and Mistress, neither one master nor chatelaine, but each with the key to the other's lock."

Viola's hand, between soft as a maid and strong as a soldier from her practice with a sword, caressed the pale brow of Olivia, and drew the noblewoman closer to her.

"Then let my lips taste honey from yours, my tender Olivia."

Viola kissed Olivia, cherry meeting cherry in soft but pressing passion, and having kissed her lips, then touched her kiss on Olivia's white forehead, on her cheeks now risen to the red bloom she'd stirred in Viola, kissed down to her supple neck.

So they passed a pleasant time before Viola must needs attend the Count Orsino and render her retirement from his service.

End Act 3 Scene 1. After which we can assume that hijinks ensue and Sebastian and Antonio finally get it together, too.


End file.
